Forbidden Fruit
by Hecate Dark Goddess
Summary: After Commodore James Norrington's ship is lost in the Hurricane, he is found washed up on a beach by some nuns of a nearby abbey. NOC. Slightly AU. Longer summary inside. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-** I suppose this is rather AU, as I have changed some things. Rather than off the coast of Tripoli, as it states in DMC, Commodore Norrington and his crew try to sail through a hurricane off the coast of Ireland. There are probably a few other things that are different also. So please don't grill me if some of my stuff doesn't exactly coincide with the movies. Also, I have tried to get all of my historical facts and such right, but I could very well be wrong on those also, so I apologize in advance for any answers. Oh and another note, Kylemore Abbey is really a nunnery that was founded in 1920, but I stole the name. Sorry for the long author's note.

**Summary- **Blinded by his ambition to capture Jack Sparrow, Commodore James Norrington tries to sail threw a hurricane, failing miserably. He is found washed up on a secluded beach of Ireland by some nuns out for a walk. They take him back to their convent to recover. But there are two problems…. He soon comes to realize that he is very attracted to a woman who is off limits… and James remembers nothing of who he was before the hurricane.

**Disclaimer-** Pirates of the Caribbean and its characters belong to Disney, not me. This is written for the enjoyment of myself and others. I get no profit from it.

**Edit- **I have changed some of my characters' names from what they previously were in an effort to make the names sound a bit less modern.

**Chapter One**

That morning on the Iveragh Peninsula, there was a break in the rain and storms that had been going on for weeks on end. It was unusually sunny for Ireland's typically gray and wet climate. This would have been all too wonderful… but it was _hot._ Deirdre was already sweating underneath her heavy dress and scapular. Her dark red hair was wet with perspiration under her thick white coif. She even had to wear her black veil over her face. It was miserable. Even seeing the young novices frolicking on the quiet, lonely beach did not lift her spirits.

"Hurry along, Sister Deirdre!" called Sister Brigid in her sing-song voice, "We mustn't let the novices get too far ahead."

Deirdre barely kept the scowl off her face as she lifted her skirts and trotted a few steps to catch up with the older nun. How Brigid could be so enthusiastic about such a long walk in this unusual heat was beyond her. The older woman was at least 30 years her senior if not 40. And she was short and round. Very round. Deirdre could see the droplets of perspiration gathering on her forehead, but it didn't faze Sister Brigid one bit.

"Mother Mary preserve me," Deirdre breathed quietly as she trudged along.

"What was that, Sister?" Sister Brigid questioned curiously.

Deirdre managed a fake cheerful smile. "I was just commenting on what a lovely day it was for a walk," she lied brightly. Brigid returned her smile and turned back around, watching the young novices at play.

"Alright, girls," Sister Brigid said after a bit more of walking, "We will stop and rest for a few moments, and then we must head back for evening prayers." There was a collective 'Yes, Sister Brigid,' and then all the young girls began to go about their own business.

Finally, a _sincere _smile spread across Deirdre's lips as she watched two novices giggle as they dipped their toes in the cool water of the ocean. They were little girls, no more than nine or ten. They reminded her of herself when she was first sent to the convent. She was the only daughter in a poverty stricken family, and her parents had had no use nor had been able to provide for a 'useless' girl, so when she was old enough, they sent her to Kylemore Abbey. She was eight years of age then.

Kylemore Abbey was located on the coast of the Iveragh Peninsula on a very secluded beach. The order of Catholic nuns that she now belonged to had remained there in peace, separated from the rest of the world and its troubles, for nearly 70 years. The large stone building sat high on the crest of a rocky hill not far from where they were gathered then. Deirdre could see the tops of some of it's higher risings. The landscape in that area was beautiful to be sure. The hills were topped with emerald green grass, but as they sloped down towards the sea, the grass turned into rocks that the white frothy waves splashed over.

Her peaceful reflections were suddenly interrupted. "Isobel, what on earth are you doing, child?!" she exclaimed as she hoisted her long skirts up and ran over to where Isobel, one of the young novices she had been watching, was lifting her skirts almost past her hips so as not to get them wet and walking further and further into the water. Deirdre dashed in after her and pulled her back to the beach by her arm. "Sister Brigid and I warned all of you that the current was strong! You were not to get more than your feet in the water."

The young girl hung her head so that her unruly mane of orange-red curls covered her chubby face as Deirdre chastised her. "Well, what have you to say for yourself?" Deirdre asked. Having only just been raised to a full sister the year before, she was typically less strict on the young novices than a lot of the other nuns were, but Isobel happened to be one of her favorites, although she could let no one know that she had favorites, and seeing the young girl so carelessly risk being whisked away by the powerful waves put her on edge.

"I'm sorry, Sister Deirdre," Isobel apologized, still looking abashed, "I just forgot, I guess."

Her first impulse was to drop the issue after a warning and let Isobel be on her way, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sister Brigid watching the exchange, clearly waiting to see how she would handle it. Deirdre knew she couldn't be so indulgent with another sister watching. She, being so young at only one and twenty, was usually treated by the older and more experienced sisters as another novice even though it had been a year since she was promoted to full sisterhood. If she indulgently let Isobel go without any sort of punishment, Brigid would certainly spread it to the other sisters, and at best she would be put back in her efforts of gaining respect from the other nuns, and at worst she might be deemed to lenient to aide in teaching the novices and assigned some menial task that she hated.

Deirdre did her best to look harsh although her heart was not even half in it. "Well, perhaps an extra hour of lessons with me would help you to remember next time," she said firmly, "When the other novices have their free time after evening meal, you will be studying with me."

Isobel's clear blue eyes were downcast. "Yes, Sister," she said sadly.

Deirdre hated to see the gloomy look on her young face, but she knew that she had had to do it. The punishment was not nearly as harsh as some other sisters might have demanded. An extra hour's worth of lessons was far preferable to kitchen duty or something of the sort. "Alright then. You are dismissed."

Isobel nodded and trotted back to Carey, the other young novice she had been with before. Sister Brigid then approached Deirdre. "You were far too lenient with her, Sister," she chided, "That one is a headstrong and foolish girl. She needs a firm hand to guide her."

Under her cool and calm façade, Deirdre seethed. Could she do nothing right? But she forced herself to remain unmoved. "Trust me, Sister," she said, "An extra lesson with me will not be easy. I can assure you that she will take the rules into better consideration after she has spent an hour listening to me lecture on the most wearisome subject I can come up with and then writing about it."

Sister Brigid appraised her with shrewd eyes. "Mmmhmm," she finally conceded with a nod, "We shall see." Then she turned and began once again supervising the group of novices they had brought out to the beach.

Deirdre sighed and turned away. She wished there were more sisters there. In her opinion two nuns were not enough to watch fifteen young novices, but the Mother Superior deemed it acceptable and therefore, it was. She longed to be alone, so that she might walk up and down the lovely beach in peace. How wonderful it would be to be free of her confining habit, feeling the cool sea spray splash onto her face and body. How refreshing it would feel.

Then, although she knew it wouldn't be possible, she allowed herself to fantasize about escaping from the abbey one night and coming down to the sea. She would bathe in the ocean, free and happy. It would be most exhilarating.

Then, once again, her thoughts were interrupted.

This time, though, it was no unruly novice that caught her attention. She stood on her tip toes as she tried to see clearly the dark form on the rocks not too far away. At first she thought of dismissing it as a particularly dark clump of algae or something of the sort, but then it became obvious that it was not. First of all, it was mainly dark blue not dark green, and she could see different colors also. Light colors. She drew her brows together, still peering at the shape. She walked a few paces further, squinting.

Then it hit her.

"Sister! Sister!" she called as she gathered up her skirts and began to run to the rocks, "It's a man! A man!" By the time, she got all of that out, she was already to far away to hear Sister Brigid's reply. As she neared the rocks, the man's shape became more defined. She had no doubt now.

He was lying face down against the hard stone. With a grunt of effort, she heaved him over onto his back. There was a large gash in his forehead and scratches on other places on his face. She hastily laid a hand on his cheek, and then with a gasp drew it back. He was _burning _with fever, but his lips trembled as if he were freezing. Not knowing what else to do, she took him up in her arms and held him close to her body, trying to share the heat she had within her.

"What on earth…?" Sister Brigid gasped as she came huffing and puffing to stand beside Deirdre where she held the man on the rocks.

"I don't know," Deirdre said sharply before the other sister could finish. What was she supposed to know about him? She had only just spotted him too. "He's very feverish. We need to get him back to the abbey and put him in a bed." She sighed. "The nearest doctor is days away." Well, at least most of the nuns, herself included, knew a bit about midwifery and healing. That might heighten his chances of survival. "Here, grab his feet. We shall have to carry him."

Sister Brigid was in action faster than Deirdre would have given her credit for. In a flash she had a hold on the man's boots. They hefted him up. For once, Deirdre was extremely thankful for Brigid's presence. The old nun was stout and _strong_. The man wasn't overweight by any means, but he was tall and leanly muscular. If she was by herself, Deirdre would not have been very much help to him.

"Isobel! Carey! Abigail!" Three awestruck novices ran at the sound of Deirdre's voice. She panted with the effort of carrying the man's bulk as she looked down at the three novices. All three were light and quick, and although Isobel and Carey were rather young, Abigail was 14 and would watch over the younger two. "You three run ahead of us back to the abbey and give word that we have found a man here and we are bringing him. Tell them to have a bed prepared." With only a brief nod from each, they were off.

"Now, the rest of you better keep up," Sister Brigid squawked, "We have to be quick about this. If any one of you runs off, you will serve penance until you are as gray as me!"

**A/N- **So there's chapter one. I shall have the next chapter out soon. Especially if I get some reviews…. Hint hint…. Oh, and I would like to say that I really don't have much knowledge at all as to the real lives of nuns in an abbey. I'm just sort of putting little things that I've heard and read together. So if there are any nuns out there reading this… or anyone who knows anything about nuns, I apologize if I don't always portray life in the abbey very realistically. I will do my best though. Anyways, remember to review!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- **Thanks to those of you who reviewed! I really appreciate it.

**Chapter Two**

The man moaned and tossed in the bed. The white sheets he lay on were soaked with sweat. It was late, hours since Deirdre had found him lying on the rocks at the beach, and he had not yet awaken. He moaned and cried out a few times, but other than that he was silent. It was only she and he in the room. The others had left after they had done all in their knowledge to ensure that he would see the morn. The nearest doctor had been sent for. Hopefully, he would arrive soon.

Deirdre looked down at the paper in her hands. It was creased and worn. Obviously it had been folded and unfolded many times. Read and reread. It had come from his shirt pocket. They had searched his clothing, looking for something that might identify him. The only thing that they found was the letter. She read it again.

_Dear James,_

_It is with a heavy heart that I write you this letter. I worry over how you will receive it and what you now think of me. I know that now you know of my choice and probably do not wish to hear from me, but I feel that I owe it to you to give you an explanation for my cruel treatment of you recently._

_I apologize sincerely for accepting your offer of marriage and then going back on my word. As I look back on my actions now I feel guilt and shame, for I know you never deserved such callous, harsh treatment from me. So worried was I for Will at the time, that I did not think of your feelings, and that I truly regret. _

_I have been in love with Will since I was a young girl. If not for him, then things could have worked out between us, but it would not have been fair to you if I had married you while in love with another man. You are a fine man, James, one that any young woman would wish to marry, but we would not have been good for each other. I am sure that one day soon you will find the woman who is meant for you. _

_I beg you to accept my sincere apology, and I hope that one day we might be able to put all of this behind us and act as friends._

_Your friend,_

_Miss Elizabeth Swann_

Poor man. Deirdre refolded the note, feeling sadness for him- James. The woman must have been important to him. Deirdre felt a bit guilty for reading the note. After all, she didn't know this man at all, and he didn't know her, and here she was looking into his personal life without his permission. Well, she supposed she had had to do it. How else were they supposed to have any idea of who they were taking care of.

After she put away the letter, Deirdre stood and walked over to his bedside. He was murmuring something faintly in his sleep, but she couldn't make out the words. She brought her hand down to touch his forehead. She knew before her fingers even made contact that he was still burning up. She turned to the small bedside table, and reached for the basin of cold water that some of the other nuns had placed there. She took the rag out and rung out the excess water.

A small yelp was torn from her throat when she turned back around, prepared to cool off the poor man with the chill water, for his eyes were open, and he was looking right at her. Well, glaring was probably a better word. His hands clutched the sheets in fists, and she could see his chest panting beneath the covers. Sweat still poured from his forehead.

"Where am I?" he demanded.

"Calm down, sir," she said, regaining her composure, "You are at Kylemore Abbey on the Iveragh Peninsula in Ireland. We are going to take care of you. Now, just relax." She held the dripping cloth out to him. "Here, this will cool you down."

He looked past her, ignoring her outstretched hand. The anger and distrust in his eyes was replaced by fear. His breathing quickened. Deirdre didn't know what to think. Could he be hallucinating something? He _did _have quite a fever. "Sir, please," she said soothingly, "Lie back. There's nothing to worry about."

He started, as if once again remembering she was present. "I… don't know… who I am," he said slowly, "I can't remember." His deep voice became faster, more urgent. "I should remember. I know I should, but I just… can't."

Deirdre gaped at him. This was certainly a problem. How was she supposed to help a man who couldn't remember his own name? She fished for something comforting to say. "A doctor has been sent for. I'm sure everything will be fine. Just take it easy for now. Stress won't be good for you with such a high fever."

He appeared to want to put up a fight, but something in her eyes must have conveyed that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Finally, he leaned back down on the pillows. His eyes were still frightened and wild, like that of a cornered animal, but it seemed as if he was going to cooperate with her. Gently, Deirdre placed the cool, wet rag on his forehead. He started, but then relaxed. "There. Now, just keep that there on your forehead, and you should cool down soon. Are you thirsty?"

"Yes, very," he replied. His panting had slowed somewhat, and for that she was glad. Still, his cheeks were red in contrast with his otherwise pale skin, and his eyes shone brightly, feverishly. He was still _far _from well.

"Drink," she commanded gently, placing one hand behind his neck and holding him up. He gulped down the water she offered him urgently, so urgently that he choked a bit and had to stop to allow a fit of coughing pass. "Not so fast," she warned, a little too late as he coughed. She removed her hand from behind his neck and placed it on his chest, once again lowering him down on the pillows. As her hand lay on his chest, she was briefly surprised by the harness of his muscles beneath the thin cotton shirt they had put him in. He looked like a slight man, but now it was obvious that he was generously muscled.

"Who are you?" he asked when she had returned the empty cup to its rightful place beside the pitcher of water.

She offered him a small smile. "I am Sister Deirdre," she replied.

"I wish I could introduce myself," he said quietly, "But…."

"James," Deirdre said, remembering the letter, "James. Does that sound right?"

His brow creased in thought as he considered. Then his eyes widened, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally remembered how to talk. "Yes… yes," he said slowly, "That's me. That's my name!" His eyes immediately became suspicious. "How do you know that?"

Deirdre reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the letter. She held it out to him. "We found this in your jacket pocket," she told him, "Here. Read it."

He took the paper out of her hands, still eyeing her warily. Then he began to read. Different emotions crossed his face, none staying for any amount of time. When he finished reading, he slowly refolded the letter and let it fall from his hands. "Maybe it's a good thing that I cannot remember her," he said, and he smiled sadly.

Deirdre didn't know what to say. She bent and picked up the letter, about to offer it back to him, but then she realized that he was no longer paying any attention to her or the letter. His brows were drawn together in concentration. Deirdre placed the folded letter on the bedside table.

"There's something important," he began mumbling, not to her but to himself, "I have to remember…. I have to…." He cut off, breathing heavily once again. The sweating had started back.

"Calm down," she told him again, placing a soothing head on his burning forehead, "I'm sure you'll remember soon, but you have to rest. You'll never get well if you don't take it easy. Sleep is the best thing for you now. Sleep." She kept her hand on his forehead because the touch of another person seemed to comfort him somewhat. Softly, she hummed an old tune that she remembered her mother singing to her when she was a girl. Deirdre had also used it to calm young novices who had been awakened by frightening nightmares. The tune seemed to have the same affect on James, for soon he was asleep again.

Deirdre idly combed her fingers back through his dark brown locks, wondering who he had been before. Then the door opened.

Deirdre jerked her hand away, and looked to the door just as Sister Eilis entered. Deirdre forced herself to smile. "Good evening, Sister," she said.

Eilis all but glared a whole through Deirdre. Eilis had been one of Deirdre's teachers when she was a novice, and Deirdre apparently had not been an easy child to handle. Eilis hadn't forgotten, nor forgiven. "Mmmhmm," Eilis said, "I have been sent to relieve you. I believe you are due to give the novice Isobel O'Briain an extra lesson."

Deirdre winced. She had nearly forgotten about Isobel's penance. "Of course," she said and prepared to leave. As she was about to walk out the door, she turned back to Sister Eilis. "He woke long enough to speak to me only once…." She hesitated. "There is a problem. He doesn't remember who he is. He didn't even recall his own name until I showed him the letter."

Sister Eilis gaped at her.

Deirdre nodded. "Do not ask him anything about his past if he does wake," she advised, "It distresses him greatly." She shot another glance at James, now quietly murmuring something in his sleep. She felt reluctant about leaving him… but she supposed she had to. She resolved to come back and check on him when she could.

**A/N- **Another chapter! I hope you guys like it. Remember to review and tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

He awoke groggily, but he realized with relief that he wasn't as hot as he had been before. He felt almost normal. And he was almost happy.

But then he remembered what he didn't remember.

Who he was. His purpose. His life.

Well, he knew his name. James. But what good was a name really when you didn't know who the owner of that name was supposed to be? For all he knew he could have been the king of England! Or a penniless peasant. Who would know?

James opened his eyes, and looked around the room. A woman sat in a chair a few feet away from his bed. He could tell by the wrinkles on her face and the few wiry gray hairs that showed from beneath her coif that she wasn't the same woman he remembered from the last time he woke up. What had she said her name was? Deirdre. That was it.

"Where's Sister Deirdre?" he asked. His voice sounded strangely weak in his own ears.

The old woman in the chair looked up with a start. She jumped up from the chair and laid a hand on his forehead. "Oh, Blessed Virgin, your fever has broken!" she exclaimed ignoring his question.

"Sister Deirdre?" he repeated. The young woman was the only person he could remember speaking to. She had been comforting. He wanted her soothing presence there with him again.

The older woman crinkled her brow together. "No, I'm Sister Brigid."

"Where's Sister Deirdre?"

"I believe she had a class this afternoon," Sister Brigid replied, still puzzled by his need to see Sister Deirdre, "But never mind. You have been in and out of consciousness for five days. You kept getting worse and worse, and when the doctor couldn't come we feared…." She shook her head. "Well, thank the Lord that your fever broke. You should be well enough to be up and about soon."

Five days. James wondered how long it had been since he had had his talk with Sister Deirdre. Since he had found out that he couldn't remember anything about his past.

Just then the door opened, and he turned his head to see a familiar face enter the room. Sister Deirdre's forehead was creased with worry, and she bit her full bottom lip anxiously. She carried a tray in her hands. When she looked up the anxiety left her face, and he mouth spread into a serene smile. "You're fever's broken," she said happily.

"Yes," Sister Brigid answered for him, "He just woke a few moments ago."

Deirdre smiled at him again. "I'm so glad. I was worried. We all were." She seemed to remember that she was just standing in the doorway with a tray in her hands, and with a slight blush, she walked into the room. "I brought some soup up for you, just in case."

The mention of food made him realize just how hungry he really was. Had they fed him at all these past five days? "Thank you," he managed to say.

Before anyone could say anything else, the door opened again. A middle-aged nun poked her head in. "Sister Brigid?" The older nun walked to the door and spoke quietly with the newcomer for a brief moment then after bidding farewell to him and Sister Deirdre, they left the room.

Sister Deirdre flashed him another smile as she set the tray she carried down on the table beside the bed. She pulled the chair over to his bedside and then sat down in it. "Do you think you're strong enough to sit up?" she asked, concerned.

James wondered if he really was, but he nodded anyway. He strained his arms against the mattress and tried to push himself up. He grunted with the effort, but finally he managed to prop himself up in a sitting position against the pillows.

She smiled at him again. "There," she said, "You're better off than I would have expecting. Surely you will regain your strength soon." She picked up the bowl of soup and stirred it a bit. "I'm not exactly sure what kind of soup this is," she told him absently, "I just picked it up from the kitchen, but it looks edible enough." She chuckled slightly, and surprisingly enough, it brought a small smile to his lips. "Here," she said, holding the full spoon up to his mouth.

James looked at the spoon for a moment. Then he looked up at her, a wry smile twisting his mouth. "I can feed myself, you know."

Sister Deirdre blushed and brought the spoon back to the bowl, letting it clatter. "Of course," she murmured, embarrassed, "Here you go." She handed him the bowl.

She looked away from him as she spoke. "So have you…."

He knew what she wanted to know, and his mood immediately darkened. "Remembered anything about myself yet?" She nodded uncomfortably. "Nothing. All I know is that my name is James, and that I was doing something important before this. I can't recall anything other than that."

"Well, you're English. That's made obvious by your accent." She reached out and patted his arm. "Don't worry," she soothed, "We'll think of something to help you."

James was surprised by her use of the pronoun 'we.' She didn't even know him, and yet she wanted to help him sort things out. Not that he was complaining. No, far from it. He didn't know of anyone else who could help him. He didn't remember any of his friends… if he had any. "Thank you," he said as he brought a spoonful of soup up to his mouth.

She smiled at him again, and James thought that she looked very young. Odd, he didn't remember her looking so young the last time he had seen her. Of course, he hadn't been in the most reasonable frame of mind then. Now it was obvious that she was little more than a girl. She had a slightly plump heart shaped face. Her skin was very pale, contrasting noticeably with the freckles that dotted across the bridge of her nose and high cheekbones. Her brows had an elegant arch to them, complementing her round, bright green eyes. Her best feature, he thought, was her smile. It lit up her whole face.

_Yes, she is quite pretty, _he conceded to himself as he studied her. He had seen more beautiful women… though he couldn't remember where…. His thoughts turned to the letter that Deirdre had shown him, to the woman who had written it to him, the woman he had supposedly almost married. What had she been like? Had she been very beautiful? He didn't suppose it mattered.

"How old are you?" he asked to break the silence that had descended upon them, "If you don't mind me asking."

Sister Deirdre laughed. "No, it's fine," she told him reassuringly, "I am one and twenty."

James's eyes widened. "One and twenty?" She looked barely old enough to be sixteen.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know, I look much younger," she said, "I hear that all the time. But I am telling you the truth. Do you honestly think I would be wearing the habit of a nun rather than a novice if I were still a child?"

He shrugged. "No, I suppose not."

Deirdre smiled that radiant smile of hers. "It's quite alright," she assured him, "It's not your fault I still look like a little girl." Her eyes fell, and the mirth left her face. He thought that maybe their topic of conversation had struck a chord within her, but she recovered almost right after it happened.

"The doctor wasn't able to make it, as you've probably already been informed," she said, changing the subject abruptly, "But I think- as do most of the other sisters here- that you should be able to be up and about within the week. We don't have any formal medical training, but most of us are somewhat learned in the arts of healing. Thank the Lord for that, for you might not have made it."

They spent awhile after that talking. Or rather, Deirdre talked and James listened. Not that he minded that really. She told him about herself and about life in the abbey. Listening to her speak and laugh, almost made him forget about what he couldn't remember. He became lost in her voice, not really hearing so much of what she was saying as what she sounded like. So he was greatly disappointed when a loud chime sounded.

Deirdre jumped, stopping what she was saying in mid sentence. "Oh, that's the bell for evening prayers," she told him as she stood, "I have to go."

"When will you come back?" The words poured out of James's mouth before he could stop them, and immediately he was embarrassed. He should have held his tongue. Even if he did greatly enjoy the young nun's company, he should not be so blatant as that.

But Deirdre did not seem to note is misstep in propriety, for she smiled a pleased smile. "I have to teach a class tomorrow morning and then another one later in the evening, but between then, I will come here."

James didn't say anything but merely returned her smile and watched her quickly walk out of the room. He didn't really understand why he longed for her to return so badly. Maybe it was only the fact that he needed companionship, and he could not remember any of his friends from his past. She was the only person who he could ever remember having a real conversation with.

He shook his head and turned his thoughts to other matters. How was he going to get his memory back? That was his biggest problem. Not the pretty young nun who had just left him. He knew that before he had woke and found himself to be in the care of the sisters of Kylemore Abbey that he was doing something important, urgent. That thought disturbed him. If he had been doing something important, how was he supposed to complete the task if he couldn't even remember what it was?

He tried to think of ways to get his memory back to normal. The cause of his memory loss was probably when his head hit the rocks that he was found on. He thought that maybe another blow to the head might bring his memory back…. He disregarded that idea as soon as it entered his mind. He could see it now. He would be lying on the floor unconscious when one of the nuns came in, and then he would have to explain that _he _had knocked _himself _out. No, he was determined not to make a fool of himself.

So for the remainder of the night, James lay in his bed contemplating his problems. Problem number one: He had no idea who he was. Problem number two: He couldn't think of a way to fix problem number one. Problem number three: He was in a convent, lying in a bed as weak as a newborn kitten. Problem number four: He couldn't banish Deirdre's face from his mind.


End file.
